Many years ago, as an undergraduate student, I went to a department which one of the courses we were to borrow in a bid to establish contact with the lecturer assigned to take us in the course. It was a routine engagement of a class representative which I was. On getting to the department, I walked into one of the offices and inquired from a man seated in there of Mr. Okoro (not the real name). “There is nobody called Mr. Okoro here,” he retorted instantly. It was then that my eyes immediately caught the inscription on the nameplate on his desk. Lo, this was the Mr. Okoro I was looking for. Luckily, my brain functioned fast enough to enable me decode why my interlocutor was disowning his own name; I had failed to add the title “doctor” to it. The nameplate read “Dr. Okoro”. “I’m looking for Dr. Okoro,” I quickly corrected myself. “Okay. How many I help you?” He finally became receptive.
Titles are okay, but we need to be careful lest they become our illusion whereupon we mistake them for our human essence. Thus, we may begin to see ourselves as incomplete without our titles. This is when titles become our source of self-validation such that we feel debased when we are addressed without them. That was exactly why the lecturer in question flatly denied his name, the primary tool of his social identification.
Titles are meant to symbolise our social positioning which may be in the sphere of academics (where titles like Dr. and Professor are common), religion (where titles like Rev. and Pastor are common), political governance (where President, Governor, Senator etc. feature prominently) etc. These titles are merely of symbolic functioning as persons who occupy these positions remain whom they are even when they refuse to go with the titles, while, on the other hand, people can go with such titles without genuinely deserving the description, such as when people impersonate, pay to acquire certificates or buy chieftaincy titles.
Despite the above truth, many have got so attached to their titles that these have begun to obscure their self-vision whereupon they look at themselves and no longer see that human person that they are, but the titles. This has some serious psycho-social consequences as individuals, in their relationship with others, tend no longer to act as Henry, Henrietta, Chigozie or Ngozi, but like Dr., Professor, Chief, His Excellency etc. Thus, pride, narcissism, and all sorts of self-entitlement start to prevail over humane disposition, humility and empathy. “Do you know you are talking to a first class chief?” Do you know I’m a professor?” and all such vainglorious utterances become a common occurrence in social relation.
Make no mistake about that, titles are necessary for sake of establishing and maintaining a hierarchical order in social spheres, for adherence to due protocols, and for accordance of privileges. However, the risk in too much attachment to titles becomes most manifest when individuals, in informal settings (such as I described about my encounter with my lecturer above), feel that their real self is being alienated from them when they are not addressed with their preferred titles. This is obsession but we have failed to see it as so because our culture of adoring titles have blinded us to this reality.
Amusingly, as I wrote this article, a student of mine approached from behind and greeted me, “Mr. Duru good morning.” I returned the courtesy promptly. This has been my repeated experience where students address me as “Mr. Henry” or “Mr Duru”, and any time this happened, I couldn’t help but be amused that certain persons would have considered it debasing to be addressed so given their conviction that their hard-earned title of “Dr.” or “Prof.” must always be firmly affixed to their name. I do not see it that way, and in fact, sometimes I personally view titles as embarrassing. Don’t ask me why; it is a product of idiosyncrasies.
Bottom line: let your title not becloud your vision of your real self by making you have an exaggerated or reduced vision of yourself. In other words, let your title not be your illusion.
This is my meditation this midweek.
Henry Chigozie Duru, PhD, teaches journalism and mass communication at Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, Nigeria.
That is merely a symptom of pride, insecurity, attachment or low self-esteem. Thanks for the words of wisdom.
This article is apt especially at this time when the craze for titles is becoming worrisome and “embarrassing”.
Like an exorcist, you have just conjured up my mortified spirit, I am so happy that some prominent individuals had shared a concept which I have been subdued as outlandish. What I hated so much wasn’t title, but National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). Why must the scheme and it’s kit be a confirmation that one had graduated from higher institution. This phenomenon has led to a lot of atrocities – Very unfortunate! Thanks for the insight Sir
Of course, that mystifies the clamour for it..
Well talking about title craze in our own clime, I think it also has to do with our mentality, shaped by the society we found ourselves. I don’t know about other parts of the world, or even Africa and also Nigeria, but when it comes to being crazy about titles, the Igbo tribe doesn’t joke with it. And when it comes to Igbo tribe, it’s more pronounced in towns like Awka.
Titles ‘shouting out’ so to say, is more appreciated in such areas than normal greetings.
In the academic circle as you observed, it’s Dr, whether academic or medical, Professor, and even Barrister, Engineer, Surveyor, etc and maybe we also add journalist, teacher, trader etc.
Well the quest for titles now push some of our people, once they made some thousands in those days or millions these days, the next thing is look for some traditional heads to confer them with chieftaincy titles like, while in the academic, people pay to be named Doctors, whether medical, academic or honorary, and this is whether they merit
those titles or not. Or whether they can defend it or not. In the Religious circle, some award those titles to themselves.
Then, sometimes you see. Sir, Chief, Dr, Whoever. Otagbuluagu One of Wherever…